Let It Snow!
by ChainOfPaperclips
Summary: Emma crosses paths with Killian on a late, cold, snowy night, and learns to appreciate both him and snow in the process. One-shot fluff fic. Rated T for some very mild sexual themes.


**A/N: Just a fun, fluffy fic that I wrote because I'm in the holiday mood. Hope you enjoy!**

The diner was nearly empty, save for one or two residents tucked into separate corners of the room, but that was hardly unusual for 10:00pm on a Tuesday night. Christmas music played softly in the background, a reminder of the busy winter season that was upon Storybrooke residents. An unnecessary reminder, Emma Swan reflected with a frown, groaning inwardly at the weather forecast on her phone. _More_ snow tonight and tomorrow? Hadn't they had enough of it the past three days?

"What brings you here so late?"

Emma looked up from her smart phone at the brunette who leaned across the counter, wiping its surface in slow circles. "Long day," she answered shortly. She tucked the phone away in her coat pocket. "How's it been, Ruby? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

The brunette laughed. "I know, I've been working some odd shifts-as you can see. Dr. Whale ran into me the other night on my break and said it was like I had just disappeared from Storybrooke or something."

"Well," Emma smiled, "I don't know about that. Try sailing out of harbor on a once-invisible pirate ship for an unknown length of time, with barely a word of explanation to anyone else."

"Yes," Ruby said, with a glint in her eye, "I've been meaning to ask you about that. But first, your order?"

"One large hot chocolate, please," she decided, "with extra whipped cream."

"Cinnamon?"

She considered the idea, then shook her head. "No thanks. I'll take a generous drizzle of caramel instead. The sweeter the drink, the better. It's one of those nights."

The other woman arched her eyebrow. "Let me put your order in," she said, "then you can spill, if you're so inclined."

Emma watched her walk away and disappear into the kitchen. She reached for her coat, where it hung over the stool next to her, to retrieve her phone again, hoping against all reason that tomorrow's weather forecast might have changed in the last five minutes-say from frigid and snowy to unseasonably warm and sunny?

Bells jangled, and she glanced toward the door out of habit, only to see Captain Hook saunter through the doorway. Releasing the phone in her grip, she removed her hand from the pocket and tried to behave as if she had not seen him at all. Dean Martin began to play on the radio, and Emma glared at the offending speaker on the wall above her, giving serious thought to bludgeoning it to death with one of her snow boots if she had to listen to _another_ song about snow.

"Swan," the pirate greeted her, sliding onto a stool next to her. "Not saving the world from villains tonight?"

She snorted. "What villains? That's the one good thing about this horrible weather. It's too cold and slick outside for anyone to bother causing much trouble. Besides," she said dismissively, "I didn't work tonight anyway."

He tilted his head to the side, his gaze intent. "No? You had...other plans?" He glanced around the diner as if searching for clues to some puzzle.

"I spent the evening with my mother," she answered with a roll of her eyes. "Neal and I haven't been on a date in weeks." She stared at the countertop, both relieved at the fact that it had fizzled out so naturally, sparing her the awkward necessity of breaking up with him, and annoyed that Neal had not thought enough of her to break things off himself when it became apparent that he had feelings for Tink.

_Still, it might have been worse,_ she reflected. At least they could still function on amicable grounds with each other, for Henry's sake.

Flustered by her own honesty with him, she rushed on, "Dr. Whale diagnosed her with hypermesis gravid-" She stopped, seeing the clueless look on his face. "Morning sickness," she explained. "An inappropriate name, if I ever heard one," she muttered, remembering the months she had spent with her head hung over the toilet in her jail cell at all hours of the day, vomit clinging to her locks of hair, wishing for a mother she didn't even have to help her through it.

"Ah," he said, absorbing this information as Ruby returned with Emma's hot chocolate, "am I to congratulate them, then? Or is it strictly a family matter at the moment?" He glanced at Ruby. "Coffee. Black."

Ignoring the pointed looks of curiosity and wicked glee that Ruby shot her way before hurrying away to fetch Hook's coffee, Emma returned, "Coffee? Since when do you have an affinity for that?" She paused. "And you can congratulate them. They're so giddy, they've been telling everyone in sight." Emma smiled despite herself. She certainly didn't begrudge her parents the chance to have another child, nor the opportunity to have a sibling, but she had barely recovered her parents, much less learned who they were, what they were like. A new baby would make it even harder to find opportunities to bond with them.

"Since the weather turned so bloody cold outside," he answered. "The Jolly Roger is not exactly the warmest place to be on a night like this." He issued her an arch look. "Why?" he said, as Ruby set his coffee down on the counter in front of him. "Have you a better idea for keeping warm, Emma?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma spied Ruby standing a short distance behind Hook, giving her two silent but frantic thumbs up at the implied suggestion. Clearing her throat, and very carefully not looking at Ruby, she tapped her cup of hot chocolate with an index finger. "So why not get a room at Granny's, then?" she asked. "That has to be more pleasant than freezing to death on your ship."

"Hmm," he said, "perhaps I would, if it were worth my while." He eyed her with a smirk, and lifted his coffee cup to take a sip. "But a captain has to maintain his ship, even in the winter. You can't do that if you spend all your nights at the inn." He took another sip. "And I'm rather shorthanded on my crew at the moment," he pointed out, "so there's no one but me to care for her."

"Is that where you've been all this time?" she found herself asking.

He set his coffee cup down, the contents half finished, when she had barely started her own hot chocolate. Just how cold was it on that ship of his?

"Worried about me, Swan?"

"Yes," she admitted. Then, seeing the smug smile that flitted across his face, she tried to backpedal, "I am the sheriff. It's my job to worry about the safety of Storybrooke's residents."

"Well, then, _Sheriff_," he emphasized, leaning in closer. Emma's heart beat rapidly, and her eyelashes fluttered of their own will as she remembered their kiss in Neverland. "That's progress, isn't it?" Chuckling to himself, he returned to his own space and continued to imbibe coffee.

Emma made some pretense of enjoying her hot chocolate, but the sweet beverage offered her little of the comfort she had hoped when she'd ordered it. How could anyone relax in such close proximity to him? She eyed him sidelong, her awareness of him as heightened as it always was, only to find him returning the gaze. She choked on her drink, and although she would have loved to believe that was the reason she suddenly struggled to breathe, she knew better. He always had this affect on her, putting her off balance and surprising her.

Slapping a wad of money onto the counter out of impulse, Emma grabbed her hot chocolate and hurried out of the diner, mumbling an incoherent goodbye to Hook. A blast of frigid air greeted her as she stepped out of Granny's, and she realized with chagrin that she had left her coat inside amidst her haste to leave. Shivering despite the thick sweater and turtleneck shirt that she wore, she briefly considered returning for it the next day, snow or no snow, but her phone was stowed in it. She would need its alarm to wake up for work in the morning, not to mention needing to be available at a moment's notice in the event of an emergency.

With a sigh, she turned to enter the diner again, and found herself face to face with Hook. Her cranberry winter coat hung aloft from the tip of his hooked appendage. "Forget something, Swan?" He eyed her knowingly.

She made a grab for it, but he pulled back with a grin. "Oh, it's not that easy, love," he chided.

"So you'll let me freeze to death while you flirt with me instead?" she accused.

"Oh no," he smiled, stepping close to her. "You see," he explained with a sultry glint in his eyes as he helped her slip the coat on, "we pirates always take very good care of our treasure." He grinned, stepping past her. "Good night, Emma."

Trying to process the fact that he had passed up not one, but two, moments ripe for kissing her, she whirled around. Emma stared at his retreating figure for a moment, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat that prevented her from speaking. "Killian!" she croaked. He halted in mid-step, and Emma was so relieved, she didn't even feel embarrassed that her voice was still hoarse when she said, "Wait. Please."

He turned around slowly, his expression puzzled and uncertain. Her actions seemed to have surprised him in some way, as if they had been playing a game whose rules she had changed at a moment's notice. "Yes?" he inquired after several moments of silence.

She picked her way over toward him, cautious of the ice that layered the sidewalk in patches where the salt had not quite managed to melt it. "You-you shouldn't go back to your ship," she told him lamely as she neared him. "Not tonight. It's too cold."

Her balance slipped despite the traction her boots were supposed to give her, and Hook's good hand shot out, grabbing her around the forearm to steady her again. "Thank you," she said simply. He nodded, releasing her. She looked up at him. "I meant what I said."

He eyed her with a speculative expression. "Are you offering to put me up, Emma?" he asked at last.

"Yeah," she answered, "I guess I am, if it would keep you off that ship tonight so you don't get frostbite."

"And...you would be sleeping exactly where, in relation to me?" he inquired with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Take your pick between the couch or the recliner," she said firmly. "No funny business when we get there."

"You have my word as a gentleman," he said, inclining his head toward her with a slight bow.

"Come on then," she sighed. "Let's go hom- I mean, uh, follow me," she said, stepping past him.

He snagged her by the arm. "Not so fast," he grinned. Before she could protest, he bent his head toward hers, his eyes full of smoldering intent, and pressed his lips against hers.

A gentle warmth coursed through her, quite unlike the fierce conflagration that had threatened to burn them both alive in Neverland. But it was no wonder, she thought vaguely, through the haze of hormones that he had roused in her, for this was a very different kiss indeed. The fear-fueled urgency was gone, replaced by a tenderness that simultaneously melted her heart and set her loins on fire, arousing her far more than their desperate, challenging kiss stolen in the jungle.

That Killian could awaken these feelings in her shouldn't have surprised her; he always defied her expectations. No, she realized, as they pulled apart slowly, the real surprise was that she could feel this way at all. It wasn't simply that Neal had broken her heart so many years ago, causing her to put up walls against the pain other people could inflict; no, it was the fact, though she had loved Neal with all her heart at seventeen, she had never felt with him even a tenth of the sort of feelings that Killian aroused in her now.

_Neal_, she thought, gazing into Hook's blue eyes as he rested his forehead against hers, _Neal was puppy love_. Small wonder their attempt to rekindle their relationship hadn't worked. But this, she recognized, as the snow swirled around them, this was altogether different. It was _more_. How much more-whether it was true love, her "happily ever after," as her mother called it-she wasn't certain.

But she wanted to find out.

"Killian," she began, pulling away slightly.

He put a finger to her lips. "I promised to behave myself once we reached your apartment, lass," he pointed out gently. "I never promised anything about beforehand."

She smiled. It was so easy to smile with him. Why hadn't she ever noticed before? _A dead giveaway, Emma_, she chided herself, lamenting all the time she had wasted trying to rebuild the past with Neal. "Fair enough," she managed, placing her gloved hand around the curve of his metal hook. "Let's go home."

Startled by her action, he gazed at her with a confused expression. He said nothing, but drew her just a bit closer, the confidence returning to his features.

_Home_, she thought exultantly, as they walked hand-in-hook through the snow-covered town; perhaps someday he might truly be hers-and she his. And maybe, she decided, the snow wasn't so bad after all, if it brought her the company of a sexy, mischievous pirate. _Indeed_, she thought, recalling the Dean Martin song that had been playing on the radio at the diner, _it can snow all it wants to_.


End file.
